


It's not -

by galaxylove



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Sana's not the sad one for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxylove/pseuds/galaxylove
Summary: There’s a dull pain somewhere beneath her ribs at the mention of her name. It sinks into Momo’s head that it hurts, but it’s not love.





	It's not -

**Author's Note:**

> this is a birthday present to myself  
> sorry ive been mia on the fanfic front recently, i dont have any excuses it's just who i am as a person  
> also hi junie

   “You’re in love with her.”

 

  Noodles slip messily from Momo’s chopsticks and land in her lap, leaving a trail of sauce down her shirt. She tsks heavily, concentrating her face into a mask of annoyance and hopes that it’s good enough to hide the resolute fear resting lethargically in her chest. She grabs a napkin, begins to wipe away the evidence of her clumsiness and focuses all of her efforts on doing so to avoid looking at the girl burning two tiny lasers into her face.

 

  She keeps her head down. She knows that Nayeon will see through any performance she tries to put on.

 

  She risks a glance, can see the older girl staring defiantly at her through strands of hair that had fallen over her face and gives up the pretense that she actually cares about yet another stain on this old, faded hoodie. Shuffling uncomfortably, her hand moves to resume eating her noodles but Nayeon moves faster, stabbing a single chopstick into Momo’s bowl. The younger girl winces at the sound of the ceramic dragging across the table, eyes tracking it’s journey and she flinches again when she sees the resolute determination etched on Nayeon’s face.

 

  “Ignoring me won't change fact, Momo.”

 

  “Neither will ignoring her, you _know_ that.”

 

  Momo keeps her head down, eyes scrunched tightly shut and facing towards the table.    Overwhelming shame is lodged uncomfortably in her chest, unsure whether it’s a result of being scolded like a child or the fact that her actions had bought Nayeon to a situation where she _had_ to scold her like a child.

 

   (She knows it’s the latter)

 

  She doesn’t bother defending herself. She _deserves_ this, they both know it. It’s why Nayeon dragged her to a cheap, noodle bar at 3am, away from curious (well meaning) eyes and ears, and it’s why her childish actions have caused her to hurt one of the people she holds most dear to her.

 

  “I’m not in love with her.” Momo says quietly, playing with the frayed edges of her sleeve. She wraps the loose strings around her finger, tighter and tighter until her skin turns white and she can’t feel the numbing sensation anymore.

 

  Nayeon doesn't even bother to humour her. There’s no snort, no sarcastic laugh or chuckle or even a surreptitious roll of her eyes that Momo had quickly learned was basically the oldest girl’s trademark as a trainee. And even now, it’s still very much a ‘Nayeon’ thing, although there’s usually a healthy amount of affection hidden somewhere behind the curt action.

 

  No, instead the older girl just stares. Nayeon stares, and her gaze is a little incredulous as she looks for any sign that Momo is joking, or that she truly believes in what she actually just said.

 

   She’s not going to find whatever it is she’s looking for - Momo’s known this since the start.

 

  “You… truly believe that? That you’re not in love with Sana?”

 

  There’s a dull pain somewhere beneath her ribs at the mention of her name. It sinks into Momo’s head that it hurts, but it’s not love.

 

  “I love Sana,” Momo begins, something wrapping tighter and tighter around her chest until she was afraid her ribs would snap, “but I’m not in love with her.”

 

  “I’d do anything for her, we all know that. She’s my best friend, and I love her, I _really_ do.”

 

  Nayeon stares.

 

  “But…?” the older girl trails, hand stretched out as if to encourage more from Momo.

 

  “But nothing.” Momo shrugs. “There’s nothing more, nothing less. I don’t know why you’re so convinced that there is.”

 

  “I’ve known you for six fucking years, Hirai Momo,” Nayeon hisses under her breath. It’s late, and Momo’s sure that they’re the only customers in this place, but their entire lives revolved around being cautious. “I’ve seen every part of you for the past three, and I know that you look at Sana like she’s the literal fucking light of your life. How are you going to sit there and tell me that’s not love?”

 

  The thread unravels around her finger, blood rushing back to the numb digit as she brings her fist down on the dull table top. The sound shatters the quiet of the early morning, and Momo see’s the head of the cashier turn in their direction but there’s nothing more after. Nayeon’s watching her cautiously, and she clenches her teeth.

 

  “It’s not love, okay?” Momo hisses back, fist trembling with something hot and ugly coursing through her veins. She blinks away the angry tears, pulling the brim of her cap down further over her eyes. The shame in her chest is burning brightly on her face now, and she hopes that Nayeon wont see it in this lighting.

 

  “Momo…” Nayeon begins, hand reaching out tentatively to placate the other girl. Cool fingers place themselves over her clenched fist, and she wrenches her hand away, shoving it hastily into the deep pocket of her hoodie and pretends she doesn’t see the hurt that flashed across Nayeon’s face.

 

  “It’s not, okay?” Her voice is beginning to tremble, and she hates herself for it. “It’s not love, because this is ugly. I look at her, and I just _feel_ fucking awful, because that’s my best fucking friend and you’re right - she _is_ the literal light of my life.”

 

  Momo brings a frayed sleeve up to wipe at the tears threatening to spill over. Her lips are quivering, and she knows soon that the tears will make her words indecipherable. So she doesn’t stop.

 

  “There’s nothing beautiful about this, about when I look at her. I feel _so_ fucking guilty,” Momo sniffs, voice breaking on a sob and Nayeon’s conflicted, she can see the older girls body itching to move closer and comfort her. She doesn’t deserve it, so she retreats further into herself and away from her friend. “This is ugly. And possessive. _God_ I want her so bad, you don’t even understand!”

 

  “She deserves the world. She deserves someone who’ll love her and uphold her and make her feel like she’s the only fucking thing that matters - not a childish baby who ignores her for something she can’t control.”

 

  Nayeon looks sympathetic, features clouded by concern and yearning and the familiar love that Momo had found herself surrounded in from seven other girls for the past few years. She pushes the bowls on the table aside, still full and noodles long since cold, hands outstretched to tilt the brim of Momo’s hat up. She stares at the younger girls face, streaked with tears and eyes rimmed red and puffy, and she’s searching again, looking for something, and Momo hopes she finds it.

 

  “Momo we make mistakes.” The older girl murmurs, thumb reaching up to rub against her cheeks, wiping away the evidence of distress. “They don’t make you a bad person.”

 

  “You saw her face.” Momo whispers hoarsely, vision blurred from fresh tears as Nayeon's hands still on her face. “When I told her that. You think I deserve to even look at her the way I do after that?”

 

  “ _You_ don’t get to decide that.” Nayeon states firmly, brows furrowed sternly. “You were way out of line, that’s true, but apologise and apologise well. It’s up to her to decide if you deserve her.”

 

  Momo laughs, the sound devoid of humour.

 

  “You say that like I’d ever have her. Like I could even have the chance for her to be mine.”

 

  Nayeon opens her mouth to speak but Momo is faster, chest heaving erratically as she tries to stifle a sob when she speaks.

 

  “She doesn't love me like that. I’ll apologise, and we’ll go back to normal, and I’ll have to watch her looking at everyone like she’s fucking in love with them because that’s exactly who Sana is.” She breaks. She’s not sure at what point Nayeon moved, but the girl is next to her and familiar arms are pulling her into her chest. She lets her, feels strong arms tighten around her frame and takes deep, shuddering breaths of whatever fabric detergent Tzuyu used on the laundry load last night.

 

  It’s soothing, and she closes her eyes and inhales a few more times. Nayeon is cooing in her ear, hand cupping the back of her head after pulling the worn hat from her head.

 

  “It’s not her fault,” Momo sniffs again, “She’s love. That’s who she is. I can’t stop that and I _won’t_ stop that because Sana is beautiful when she loves someone and who the fuck am I to change that?”

 

  Nayeon looks like she wants to say something, conflict running rampant across her face as her mouth opens to speak but the words get stuck in her throat. She’s grateful Momo’s face is buried in the fabric of her hoodie, and she settles on letting her fingers play with the younger girls’ hair instead.

 

  “So please,” Momo pleads, hands fisted tightly in Nayeon’s hoodie, “Just let me say it’s not love. _Please._ ”

 

  Momo pulls away, stares desperately into Nayeon’s face and the words in Nayeon’s throat get swallowed deep down into her stomach as she nods slowly.

 

  “Okay.” The older girl complies, and she doesn’t hesitate when Momo’s face crumples, pulling the sobbing girl back into her embrace. Her own vision blurs, and she buries her face against Momo’s crown as muffled cries are swallowed by her hoodie.

 

  It’s almost 4am. They’re still in the noodle bar, and it’s messy and ugly and Momo is crying broken, heart wrenching sobs in a dimly lit booth against Nayeon’s chest. The cashier kindly ignores them, pretends he doesn’t hear the familiar tune of a broken heart filling the empty space in this bar and puts his headphones in quietly.

 

  It’s messy, and ugly, and it feels like forever until Momo’s body stops trembling with every frame wracking sob that escaped her throat and Nayeon finally ushers them quickly out of the building with a thankful nod to the oblivious cashier and into the open air.

 

  It hurts, but it’s not love.

 

* * *

 

 

   Momo sleeps in Nayeon’s bed. Nobody questions it when they wake up, several pairs of eyes catching sight of a second body in the oldest girls’ bed and wishing her a good morning as though she belonged there. Bodies shuffle out of the room as they prepare for the day, and Momo almost whines as Nayeon slips out from under the covers and subsequently, her source of heat. She doesn’t though, burrowing herself deeper into the sheets still warm from an absent body and the door clicks shut behind the other girls. Muffled voices fill the hallway; she can hear Jeongyeon cussing out someone over something, and she thinks she faintly hears Chaeyoung defending the culprit (herself, perhaps - it usually was anyway). There’s a voice missing - the brightest and most familiar voice, and something dull thuds painfully in Momo’s chest.

  She tells herself to get over it, throwing back the duvet hastily and throwing herself into some sort of morning routine.

  First and foremost, finding Sana.

 

* * *

 

 

   She apologised. It was as easy as she knew it would be, Sana appraising her apprehensively for all of two seconds before a warm, gentle smile broke out on her face and she immediately resumed her usual course of annoying Momo like her life depended on it. Sana pulls her into a hug, thin limbs wrapping loosely around her waist and Momo let’s her, lets herself indulge in this for a moment.

 

  It’s ugly, and she doesn’t deserve this, not at all. She wanted shouting, she wanted Sana to get mad and tell her that no, it _wasn’t_ okay and that she had to actually work to be forgiven.

 

But she didn’t. Because she’s Sana, and Sana lives like she was made to love. And she forgives her just like that, burying everything in a simple smile and a warm hug.

 

  It shouldn’t hurt, but the weight of Sana’s arms on Momo’s waist suddenly feel too heavy to bare, and she feels her knees begin to buckle underneath her.

 

  The familiar feeling is pressing insistently against her chest again, loud and demanding as Sana unknowingly keeps her on her feet. it stays there when Sana pulls away, regarding Momo with a soft smile as she pulls her out the door, and it’s there when they join the other girls for breakfast, and it’s there when they’re on a stage hours later with hundreds of fans screaming their names.

 

  It’s loud, and ugly, and messy. Momo looks around, catches the fond smiles on each of her member’s faces as they perform a routine that was pure muscle memory at this point, and she realises she can barely hear the cheers of the crowd over the roaring rush of the blood in her ears.

 

  She catches sight of soft, brown locks as Sana spins in place, sees the brilliant gleam of adrenaline in the girls eyes as she looks out to the crowd and shows them every single part of her. The sound in her head grows louder, and she forces herself to tear her gaze away, looking out to the fans with misty eyes.

 

  It’s not love, she tells herself, even when the performance has long since finished and nine girls are fighting back the realms of sleep in the back of a minivan futilely. Sana sits next to her, head resting on her shoulder and rolling loosely against her with every small jolt of the van. The city lights flash by, illuminating Sana’s sleeping face in whirring flashes as they make their way home and Momo makes sure to sit a little straighter in her chair so the other girl would be a little more comfortable when she woke.

 

  It’s not -

 

  A hand taps her on the shoulder, quick to press a piece of chocolate into Momo’s open palm before pulling away like nothing had happened. She turns her head to see who it was, ignoring how the action made Sana reach all the way over and wrap an arm around her stomach, pressing herself fully along the length of Momo’s side.

 

  She sees Mina staring back, a few more pieces of chocolate offered to her in her outstretched hand with a small, comforting smile on her face. The body against her own restricts her movements, so Momo sends a pleading smile and opens her mouth wide.

 

  Mina rolls her eyes, leans forward as deft fingers unwrap the treat and places one on Momo’s tongue. the older girl grins childishly, letting the sweet melt in her mouth and Mina sits back in her chair. Sana stirs against her side, but the ache in her chest doesn’t feel as cavernous as it did before, and Momo wraps an arm around her shoulder to pull her in a little closer.

 

  She closes her fingers around the sweet in her palm, knows that Sana will whine and moan when she wakes up if she knew Momo didn’t save one for her, and lets her own head fall limply against the headrest. She can feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness, and a tired grin steals itself across her face as she realises this doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does.

 

  She succumbs, a blissful smile melting away from her face and with Sana nestled closely to her side, clinging tightly even in the throes of sleep. If she’d have stayed awake a little longer, she would have seen Mina lean forwards to place another chocolate in the front pocket of her shirt, would have seen the unreadable expression that flashes across her face at the serene picture she is greeted by when she sees Momo’s arm wrapped around Sana comfortably.

 

  She looks to the front of the van to see Nayeon staring back through the mirror, watching her with thinly veiled curiosity and Mina’s eyes flit back, taking in Sana and Momo once more before she looks back at Nayeon with something a little sadder on her face.

 

  She understands. Nayeon nods once, long and slow and Mina’s phone lights up with a message notification when she thumps back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

 

**you know too?**

 

  She exhales heavily, hand raking through her hair nervously and nimble fingers begin to tap out a reply.

 

**i just want to make sure they’re both okay.**

 

  Light flashes at the front of the van, Nayeon’s phone receiving the message and Mina waits patiently, eyes dragging back to her friends like a moth to a tragic, burning flame. A few minutes pass, but then her phone buzzes in her hand and she squints blearily at the light.

 

 **but do you** **_know?_ **

 

  She looks up, sees Nayeon staring back at her with a serious expression. She hopes the confusion on her face isn’t too apparent.

 

**that momo is in love with sana? of course**

 

  The light at the front of the van flashes again, and she can _hear_ the laugh that escapes Nayeon’s lips. Something heavy drops in Mina’s stomach - there’s something she’s missed.

 

  It’s a few moments of nervous anticipation, the pool of feelings in her stomach bubbling anxiously as she watches the older girl tap out a lengthy reply. The pool overflows when her phone lights up with Nayeon’s message, eyes widening in shock as she takes in this new bit of information.

 

  She bites her lip hard, holds back the laugh of disbelief that threatened to slip out. She slips her phone back into her pocket, glancing briefly over the sleeping pair before looking forward to Nayeon again.

 

  She’s always had an unexplainable smile on her face, like she knows a secret about everyone and everything, and Mina understands why now. She wonders how she missed it, when she thinks back and thinks how glaringly obvious the signs were, but for now she sinks easily into her chair and tries to chase the sleep that had evaded her for the entirety of this ride.

 

* * *

 

 

   They reach home, and Momo stirs awake to find that the chocolate in her palm has melted. Sana laughs at the mess on her hand, voice a little croaky from sleep and something in Momo’s chest jumps at the sound even though she’s heard it a thousand times before. She licks off the chocolate, wiping her hand on her shirt only to feel a bump in her pocket, reaching inside to find another, still intact piece of chocolate. Sana’s ahead of her now, talking tiredly with Chaeyoung and Momo debates her options briefly. She darts forward, grabs Sana’s hand and closes the other girls small fingers around the treat firmly before pulling away, slipping back to the van to grab her bags.

 

  She doesn’t see Sana look back with something achingly familiar glistening in her eyes, and she doesn’t hear the not quite genuine laugh the other girl forces out in response to a joke Jeongyeon makes. She misses the way Sana’s fist clenches around the sweet; she’s too busy focusing on the lingering warmth embedded against her skin, and the growing light spreading through the space in her chest. It remains even when she gets into the warmth of the building, when she’s taken off her makeup and has waited for her turn in the shower (she’s seventh tonight, she was never very good at rock, paper, scissors) and when she’s burrowed deep under the confines of her duvet late into the night.

 

  It’s still there when she falls asleep. She doesn’t dwell on it.

 

  It’s -

**Author's Note:**

> unrelated but i suppose i based this around my most listened to song last year (thanks for that info spotify) so, if u wanna i guess https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tW5ql1FrqjM


End file.
